


Look What Came Crawling Up

by Snowish



Series: A Web of Stuff [1]
Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-30 06:45:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15091280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowish/pseuds/Snowish
Summary: Man, being revived and finding yourself buried in a grave definitely can't be fun, huh? Poor Webber...This little thing is basically how Webber gets 'unlocked.' It's based on the timeline me and some friends have made for the game for RP purposes, which is specifically that Webber was revived before Wilson was freed from the throne by Charlie.





	Look What Came Crawling Up

**Author's Note:**

> So me and some friends RP Don't Starve together, and I based pretty much all the characters but Webber on my friends' portrayals.

_FLASH!_

 

**_BOOM!_ **

 

_Air… Need air…_

That was the only thing running through the child’s mind as he woke up. He felt dirt all around him and all he could do was claw desperately in one direction, hoping it was up.

_What happened? Where am I? I--_

**_HUNGRY…_ **

That voice, hissing loud in his head and making his temples throb, wasn’t his. Where did it come from? Why did--

Air. Sweet, fresh air. He clambered his way further up, dragging himself across the ground for a bit before his strength failed, collapsing. His head spun, rang, hurt--so many things, he barely even noticed the voices surrounding him.

 

“What in the hell--?”

“Oh, my word…”

“AN ARACHNID LIFEFORM HAS EMERGED FROM THE GRAVE.”

He blinked his eyes--W-wait, he… He had more than two? It was so disorienting. He opened his mouth to try and speak, only briefly noting his tongue brushed several sharp fangs, before being overwhelmed by a coughing fit. He would have to play catch-up to whatever happened to him later. His body needed to get rid of the dirt in his lungs.

 

He looked up, still coughing, to try and see who was in front of him. All he could make out through his swimming vision was a pant leg and some sort of shoe--for some reason, he felt comfort in seeing it and tried to reach out for it.

“Get away from me,” Came a huff somewhere up above, obviously the owner of the foot as it moved out of his reach. “It’s just some spider, might as well get rid of it.”

_Spider? N-No, I’m not a spider, I’m--_

**_DANGER._ **

On instinct, he gave out a weak hiss before ducking away, just in time to avoid a spear being thrust into the ground where his arm had been. Why were they attacking him? He had no idea what was going on.

“TARGET MUST BE IMMOBILIZED BEFORE ACCURACY CAN IMPROVE.” The robotic voice from before said, this time much closer. Had it been the one to sink the weapon into the ground?

 

“Now hold on, the two of you!” The third voice cried, this one also comforting in a way. It sounded like an older woman, and he felt he could trust it. At least she didn’t seem to want to attack him while he was still dizzy.

“I don’t think this is your average spider… Look, it’s got a body like the rest of us. At least give the fella some time to orient himself before you decide to go killing him!”

As she spoke, his vision began to focus a bit, and he weakly looked up to the group. He still couldn’t make out any definite shapes, but he saw a tall figure, a metallic figure, and the source of the comforting voice. Who were they?

“Yes, and while it’s managed to get its bearings, then it can kill us all.” Tall Figure said in a sarcastic tone.

“LETTING ONE’S GUARD DOWN WOULD BE INADVISABLE.” The Metallic Figure added. The screechy sound of its voice made his hair stand on end… Which happened to be all over his body? When did he--

“That isn’t the way we do things around here, Maxwell.” Comforting Voice scolded Tall Figure. “Wilson would definitely not let something like this slip by.”

“Hm, well correct me if I’m wrong, but Wilson is a tad _indisposed_ for the time being.” Tall Figure, apparently called Maxwell shot back.

“And why should that change anything? It’s your fault he’s stuck on that blasted thing, anyhow! We let ya join up with us on the promise you would behave yourself, and you certainly aren’t living up to that promise!”

At this comment, Maxwell seemed to shrink back a bit. Or was it just the boy’s eyes still being funny? Either way, when Maxwell recovered a bit, whatever he was going to say next was interrupted by Metallic Figure.

 

“THE ARACHNID INDIVIDUAL IS GAINING COMPOSURE.”

True to Metallic Figure’s word, he had managed to pull himself up into a sitting position now. He held his head, and his breathing was still labored, but he was slowly recovering from being under the soil.

“Where--” He managed before giving an ungodly wheeze. “Where am--”

“Don’t strain yourself, dear.” Comforting Voice said, moving closer to him so she could prop him up a bit more. “Do you have a name?”

Name? He had a name, yes. It was… It was… What was it? He felt like he should know it, but it wasn’t there. Why wasn’t it there?

 

**_NAMES NOT NECESSARY._ **

 

There was that voice again. It made his head ring even more, causing him to double over and cough up even more dirt.

“Can’t--Can’t remember.” He managed in-between breaths. “Can’t remember… anything.”

“Disorientation is common upon being revived,” Maxwell mused as Comforting Voice helped the boy to his feet. “But such severe amnesia is not…”

“IS THIS ARACHNID ANOTHER ONE YOU BROUGHT INTO THIS PLACE.” Metallic Figure asked Maxwell.

At this, Maxwell scoffed, looking a little offended at the other’s implication.

“I think I would have remembered dragging in a spider-like individual, WX-78.”

What were they going on about? He wasn’t sure, but it didn’t really matter. He was still trying to sift through his thoughts and give them a name. But some unrelenting force--angry, hungry, scared all at the same time--was blocking him out. It only made his head hurt more.

“We… Web…” He mumbled, realizing he was close. “Web… Er…”

 

“Webber?” Comforting Voice asked, giving a puzzled expression. It wasn’t exactly a normal name, and it seemed a bit… Coincidental. But she figured it was better than nothing.

“Well, Webber, how about we take you back to our camp, and we can see what we can do to help you out, hm? Maybe some things will come back to you.”

Webber? No, that wasn’t it. No, his name was… But he still couldn’t place it. Perhaps Webber would suffice until he actually remembered…

He gave a weak nod, and then the pair began to slowly make their way forward, eventually trailed by Maxwell and WX-78.

Along the way, Comforting Voice attempted to ask him questions about himself, just to jog his memory, but all he could manage was his age.

“S-Seven… Turned seven just a couple months ago.”

Upon hearing this, the woman’s eyes widened, and she shot a stern look towards Maxwell, who also seemed chilled by Webber’s revelation. Why was his age such a big deal?

He didn’t get the chance to ask that, however, as the group finally reached the camp.

 

From what Webber could make out, it was a large area surrounded by stone walls, filled with various tents, chests, and other structures that aided in day-to-day life. He could have sworn there was some flicker of recognition upon seeing a few of them, but he was still so exhausted, he couldn’t think on it for too long.

“Let’s set you down right here, dear.” Comforting Voice, who along the way introduced herself as Ms. Wickerbottom, said, carefully setting him down by an arrangement of stones.

“Maxwell, be a dear and start a fire? It’s getting dark soon, anyway. WX, you might as well notify everyone else we have a new arrival. And be sure they’re aware of his… Special qualities. Just so there’s not an accident.” She instructed the other two before walking away.

As soon as she said it was starting to get dark. Webber couldn’t help but shiver. As the other two got to work, he did his best to glance around, noticing how much the camp seemed like a small village. It provided him with some ease, but that would soon be torn down when the fire was lit.

The flames roared to life, and Webber looked over them, trying to get a better look at Maxwell now that he was a lot more grounded. But when he caught sight of the man’s face, utter panic shot through him.

 

“NO--!” He managed, his voice catching in his throat as he tried to scramble back, only succeeding in falling over and triggering another coughing fit.

Now he recognized Maxwell. He hadn’t by name alone, given it was so common, but he would know that face anywhere. Memories were coming back now. He was tricked. He was pulled away from his home, forced to survive in a dangerous world, and--

He died. He had _died_. He was attacked by a spider, and he was absolutely sure it had been the end of him.

And it was all Maxwell’s fault.

“What in heaven’s name has gotten into you?” Maxwell asked, giving a more annoyed expression as the boy flailed a bit.

“Y-You, you’re--You put us here. We remember now.”

Wait, we? Where did the we come from? And why was his voice so raspy? Was his throat dry from all that dirt?

 

“Seems some stuff is coming back.” Wickerbottom said as she appeared once more, this time carrying a plate in her hands. She gave Maxwell another stern look before moving closer to Webber, doing her best to sit him back up as she balanced what she was carrying.

“I think it might be a good idea for you to step away now, Maxwell.” She advised.

Maxwell, who had looked horrified upon Webber’s accusation, could only give am apologetic expression before moving away from the campfire. Webber didn’t notice it, however, as he was still breathing pretty heavily.

“I wouldn’t stress yourself anymore thinking about it right now, child.” Wickerbottom said, doing her best to give a comforting pat on the head. The way his fur pricked out, however, made it a bit difficult. It wasn’t soft like a regular animal’s.

“You look terrible, so just try to get something in you and rest for the night, okay?”

With that, she set the plate she was holding on his lap, and took a seat nearby so she could tend to the fire and keep an eye on him.

 

The food in front of him certainly smelled good. Webber was able to steady his breathing and took a moment to just focus on the scent, relaxing a bit more now that Maxwell was gone.

“Fishsticks… We--I like those.” He mumbled, picking a piece up. He still didn’t know why he was saying ‘we,’ but food was more important right now.

“So do I,” Wickerbottom said with a soft smile. “I figured they were better than nothing. We’re just a tad low on supplies at the moment.”

“How did I come back to?--I died…” He tried to ask in-between bites, still look a little worse for wear.

Wickerbottom glanced away for a moment, not sure how to explain it, but eventually decided being clear was best for the child.

“We found… Well, I guess it was your skull. It was near a spider’s nest.”

**_Home._ **

That voice growled in Webber’s head again, making him wince before trying to continue eating.

 

“I didn’t want to just leave it lying around, so I convinced Maxwell and WX-78 to bury it with me. Next thing we know, lightning strikes your grave, and out pops you.” She went on, apparently not noticing his discomfort. “But revival isn’t an impossibility in this place, young one. So I guess all I can really say is sorry that we didn’t find you sooner.”

Webber made a noise, setting his empty plate aside. The food definitely filled him, and the fire definitely warmed him, but given his memories were still vague, he couldn’t help but still feel cold and empty.

“Mister Maxwell, he was the one who…” Webber began, but was stopped by Wickerbottom. She wore a melancholy look as she spoke.

“You’re not the only one he’s tricked into coming here. But something happened… A story that’s best saved for a later time. And he’s trying to do better now. You don’t have to forgive him immediately, but I suggest you at least give him a chance.”

“Do _you_ forgive him?” Webber couldn’t help but ask.

Wickerbottom didn’t answer, and merely prodded the fire with a twig.

 

“ALL OTHER SURVIVORS PRESENT HAVE BEEN NOTIFIED. ONE UNACCOUNTED FOR, THE LUMBERJACK.” WX-78 reported as he walked over to the two. The sound of his clanking footsteps could be heard moments before he was visible, but his appearance still made Webber jump a little.

“It’s the full moon, so I’m not surprised there. Woodie knows how to take care of himself, he’ll be fine.” Wickerbottom said with a nod. “Thank you, WX. I have one more favor to ask of you tonight.”

“AND THAT WOULD BE?” The robot asked after a pause. It seemed like he was reluctant, but given his face wasn’t very flexible, it was hard to tell what he was feeling. Could the robot even feel? Perhaps Webber could ask him later.

“Webber here will need a place to sleep for the night, as well as be oriented in how things go around here tomorrow. Could you possibly assist him with that?”

“I FAIL TO SEE WHY I AM THE BEST CANDIDATE.”

“Well, I have my hands full taking Wilson’s place, Maxwell makes Webber uncomfortable, and Woodie isn’t here tonight. I don’t entirely trust Willow, and Wendy is barely any older than this boy is, not to mention Wigfrid and Wolfgang are a little… Intense. And it’s hard to first understand Wes upon meeting him.” Wickerbottom explained, counting off the other survivors on her fingers. Webber was a little amazed at how many people there were.

“NOTED.” The robot said after another long pause. “VERY WELL. I WILL ASSIST THE SPIDER CHILD UNTIL HE CAN MANAGE HIMSELF.”

“Thank you. That will be all, then.” Wickerbottom said, turning back to the fire.

 

“FOLLOW ME.” WX-78 instructed, walking away before Webber had even gotten to his feet. The child hurried after the robot, a little intimidated by his voice and apparent reluctance to help out, but if Wickerbottom trusted him…

“MY TENT IS PRIMARILY FOR KEEPING OUT RAIN. I HAVE NO NEED FOR COMFORT, THUS I DO NOT HAVE A BEDROLL. HOWEVER, I CAN SHOW YOU HOW TO MAKE ONE.” The robot spoke, not even turning back to see if Webber was following. “ONCE THAT IS DONE, YOU MAY REST IN MY TENT.”

“Th-Thank you Mister Wex.” Webber mumbled.

At this, the robot stopped, turning to look down at Webber, who froze in place. Had he said something wrong?

“MY RECOGNITION SOURCE CODE IS WX-78. YOU WILL ADDRESS ME AS SUCH.”

Huh? But that was such a mouthful…

“Okay.. So-Sorry…”

 

When they reached the tent that belonged to WX-78, Webber was surprised to see how… Utilitarian it was. Everything there seemed to have some sort of purpose, and nothing seemed to be added ‘just because.’

“TO CREATE A BED ROLL, YOU WILL NEED THESE SUPPLIES. WATCH CAREFULLY AS I CONSTRUCT ONE.”

The robot’s movements were pretty easy to follow, honestly. It was just taking some grass and tying it up with some rope, so Webber was confident he could replicate it at a later time. When WX-78 had finished, he handed it to the child, then stood up and went back to the tent’s entrance.

“W-Wait, aren’t you going to sleep, too?” Webber couldn’t help but ask. Did robots even need sleep?

WX-78 paused to glance back at Webber, but was quick to continue walking, speaking all the while.

“AS I EXPLAINED, I USE MY TENT AS SHELTER FROM THE RAIN. I AM CAPABLE OF OPERATING WITHOUT SLEEP. UNTIL YOU CONSTRUCT YOUR OWN TENT, YOU MAY USE MINE AS A PLACE TO REST.”

And then he was gone, leaving Webber on the ground, clutching his bed roll.

 

So this was how things were gonna be from now on, huh? Well… It’s not like he could remember anything to compare it to. And everyone around here seemed nice enough so far. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad… At least until they could find a way back home.

Now that he had food in his belly and a chance to get some fresh air into his lungs, exhaustion was hitting him hard. All eight of his eyes felt heavy, and he figured now was as good a time as any to get some sleep.

 

Spreading the bed roll on the ground and slipping into it, sleep came pretty quickly for Webber.

He secretly hoped that this was all some strange dream, that when he woke up he would be back home and in his own comfy bed… But the feeling of something else in his head--something not quite human--did little to assure him of this fact.

And whatever dreams he had that night were to be forgotten as easily as his other memories.


End file.
